


TAZ Character Studies and One Shots

by fantazicalteabags



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, The Director | Lucretia Angst, The Director | Lucretia is a Mess, The Director | Lucretia-centric, i love her so much but o w
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantazicalteabags/pseuds/fantazicalteabags
Summary: I write, like, WAY too many character studies and inner conflict scenes! Exploring and analyzing characters is real fun- and it's even more fun when there's a heavy bit of hurt/comfort involved! So here is a place for all that good stuff! (I will update the tags as I go)Lucretia, for all her talent and wit, was not a natural born leader. It wasn’t in her nature to assert herself or to step up and take charge. She had been made, molded, into a leader. After her journey through space and time, and during that terrifying year when she was all alone, she had been forced to take responsibility. She didn’t want to be in charge, but there was no one else who could take her place. No one else could be the Director...
Kudos: 1





	TAZ Character Studies and One Shots

_It wasn’t my fault._

The illusion of choice is a powerful thing. It weaves into the mind, whispering into ears and covering watchful eyes. Causing one to think that what they are doing is right. People think that they have freedom. The ability to control fate, the power to change the lives of those around them.

_It wasn’t my fault._

People never have that kind of power.

_It wasn’t my fault._

People just want to think that they do.

Lucretia, for all her talent and wit, was not a natural born leader. It wasn’t in her nature to assert herself or to step up and take charge. She had been made, molded, into a leader. After her journey through space and time, and during that terrifying year when she was all alone, she had been forced to take responsibility. She didn’t want to be in charge, but there was no one else who could take her place. No one else could be the Director.

The Director, of course, was her make-believe game. The name of someone who was capable. The name she had chosen for herself. Or, more accurately, had been assigned by the new people around her. Who were not family, not friends. She had left her real name, Lucretia, behind with her real friends. Behind with that... family, although she couldn't call them that anymore. It was too painful to hear that real name said now, too close to “Creesha” and “Lucy” and the other nicknames spoken by people that she loved. People that had trusted her, only to end up bruised and broken. Their blood was on her hands.

So as soon as she had left her family behind, Lucretia had started going by the Director. Cold, intimidating, powerful. A wall she could put up not just between herself and her employees, but between herself and her past.

Running the Bureau had been hard. How many Reclaimers had Lucretia sent out, only to have them never return? How many families had forgotten the existence of their loved one, wiped clean, to never be spoken of again? Every new face in the crowd was a casualty, a mistake, a name that would haunt Lucretia.

Lucretia was now finding out how the past has a funny way of becoming the future. Her friends, her family, were back. The horrible journey they had been on was over, the Hunger defeated, the Light of Creation gone. And what was left in its ashes, well, Lucretia could never have been prepared for.

Angry looks, bitter words, and hot tears. Fire burning in their eyes, mouths pressed tight when she tried to speak with them. They were angry. They had every right to be. But why couldn’t they understand that she had been trying to help?

Taako hated her most of all. Lucretia knew he could be self-centered, grumpy, and mean. She never knew he could be malicious though. Never knew just how loudly he could scream, how his fingertips could spark with uncast magic when he was lost in a sea of fury. In the last month, he barely spoke to her. It was probably for the best- what was there to say? Apologies were useless when spoken by ghosts of the past.

Lup, by all accounts, should hate Lucretia too. Lucretia had known, had suspected, what the umbra staff could mean since the beginning. And yet, she had left Lup in there because she would have interfered with the Director's plan. A pawn on a chessboard that couldn’t move, forced to wait. Lup didn’t wait for anyone now, she spent her days exploring the world. Never leaving Barry’s side. He seemed to be taking his cues from Lup, and was civil enough towards Lucretia. Somehow that stiff, distant coolness was worse than screaming.

Merle and Magnus seemed warmer to her. Less like rampaging wildfires, more warm campfires. Magnus sometimes would look at Lucretia, forehead tense, before shaking his head in agitation. As if he could erase all his feelings and memories by simply pushing them away. Lucretia didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wouldn’t work. She had already been trying to do that for years. Merle was kind to her. Far kinder than she deserved, haboring no grudge. Even defending her when Taako went off on a rant. Merle was perhaps the only one who treated her the same as before. The rest were still her family, bonded to Lucretia whether they liked it or not. But Merle was her friend. Merle was the only one who wanted to heal their ever-expanding gap. Lucretia appreciated that.

The worst one to deal with was Davenport. There was no anger in his words when he spoke, only icy dread. If she called his name, he would flinch. Davenport had been her butler for years, obedience was programmed into him. Now he was trying to reconstruct his mind, his body, to be independent once more. Sometimes, he would try to speak only to stutter his name (“Davenport! D-Davenport!”) before dissolving into tears. He had managed to say he missed being able to sing a month ago. Lucretia hoped he would sing once again.

Now, Lucretia sat in her office. Her bookshelf lined with journals, some missing pages or being ripped in half. Her hands resting on her desk, wrinkled and aged. Lucretia was not a vain woman. Beautiful faces and young love were the least of her concerns. Still, she had the selfish, guilty wish of wanting all that Wonderland stole from her. Twenty years was a small price to pay for her actions, and she would do it again in a heartbeat. So then why did Lucretia still feel so hollow?

It came, she realized with a start, not from wanting years back- but wanting herself back. She didn’t like who she was. This impatient, stern old woman who sat in the dark and bided her time. Who hid secrets and spun webs of lies until even she half believed them. Lucretia missed the girl she had been, decades ago. Bright and shy, sitting on the floor of the Starblaster and scribbling the day’s events down. Writing with both hands in two journals, eyes wide, as she listened to Merle telling a story to Barry. Laughing with Lup and Magnus, cooking with Taako, playing chess with Davenport. Lucretia missed her friends. She wanted her family.

She felt something wet slide down her face. Fantastic, Lucretia was crying. How horrible she was, having the audacity to want her family back. She had knowingly ripped them apart, and yet she still groveled and sniveled over all that was lost. Was grief the right word? It couldn’t be. Lucretia had no right to be upset about the way things were when she had been the one to change them. Her friends were different now- all of them- and yet she had the nerve to miss the people they used to be.

Something inside her shattered at that thought, and she broke down sobbing. She couldn’t pretend she was the Director anymore. She couldn’t keep telling herself that the curious Chronicler from IPRE was confined to her past, that she had somehow managed to move on. She was still Lucretia. 

She was still Lucretia. 

_Still Lucretia, still Lucretia. I am still Lucretia._

She looked different, talked different, acted different. But nothing had really changed inside. Lucretia was still the same scared girl, desperate for a family to accept her.

Her family either didn’t know or didn’t care that she, Lucretia, was here. Had always been here. Through all the lonely solo nights and busy Bureau conferences. Lucretia had always tried to keep her family safe, even during moments when that meant they would be safer without her. If their well-being came at the cost of her own happiness, it would always be worth it. She had put everything on the line for what she believed in. Now she believed with all her heart that she needed them. Not because there was a battle to fight or quest to take on. But because Lucretia wasn’t herself without them. All that she loved about herself was made up of the love she gave and received. The love she had been afraid of for so long. 

The Director had evolved from the need to be in charge and be alone. The Director was sad, and isolated, locked away in her office and forced to peer at the world through a keyhole. That wasn’t needed anymore. Lucretia could open the door. She had always had her friends, her family. At one point, she had also always had their support and love. Lucretia had taken it for granted, though. Now she had to fix it. Or at least, try to. There was no guarantee of forgiveness. There didn't need to be. All Lucretia could do was open the door- whether or not that would be reciprocated, well. She didn't want to control other people's actions anymore.

Lucretia sat at her desk, quietly, and finished crying. She wiped her eyes and tried to collect herself. Lucretia was broken into so many pieces, this was no easy task. Eventually, she managed a few shaky deep breaths. Managed to calm enough to stand and pull a journal down from the shelf. Anything that had once been written in it was ripped out, given to the voidfish years ago. That was okay. It meant a fresh start.

For the first time in twelve years, Lucretia opened her journal and began to write.

_It’s difficult to say that I am a good person. I mean, what is a good person anyways? I always did the right thing. But the right thing is rarely a good thing, and the wrong choices are generally the easier ones. Does that make them better? Or do they simply exist to tempt us? I wish I knew. I wish I could say for certain that my choices were correct. I spent years telling myself that my actions were okay because I didn’t have a choice. That I was forced into erasing their memories. I was young and convinced that I had seen more, lived more, and knew more than most. I thought that somehow granted me the right to make decisions for other people, to play with their lives. I paid the price, of course. The people I loved paid the price, too, but they never knew they were players in a game at all of our expense. I thought I could rewrite the rules of this elaborate game so we would win. I thought I was… above things like Fate and Destiny. How stupid of me. Now as I write this, my hands shake and my back hurts. There was a time when I thought perhaps I would never age. That I would be immortal. It was a deliciously easy thing to think. The shadows of people I met on doomed worlds were so expendable. Even if they lived today, they would die tomorrow. Not me, though. Not us. We could defy Death herself. We were frozen captures drifting through time, resetting and rebooting in an endless loop. Our minds and bonds changing, our bodies and souls untouched. How was I to know the world would come crashing down- and by my own hand no less! My hair is now white and my energy low. I know my life will end, someday, and welcome it. I have lived too long, done too many things. In the end, I suppose I am not a bad person. Nor am I a good person. I simply... am. I exist, a product of fate and choice and mistake. My successes and failures are measured by the pain they have caused others. Erasing memories proved to bring my family peace of mind, restoring the truth proved to be our undoing. It is time for me to admit that I am not wise or all knowing. I simply try my best, and too often my best isn’t nearly Good enough. So be it then, I no longer care. As long as I make my peace with my family, I can be happy. As long as they know I am still here, trying to make amends and help heal, that’s all that matters. That is all that matters, in the end. All the things I gave up and the acts I committed, I was foolish enough to think it was good for their happiness. But perhaps happiness is the one thing I have never been able to provide them with.  
-Lucretia_


End file.
